


Good Vibrations

by GretaOto



Series: Kitten [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shifterverse, but mostly just fluffy, cat!Arthur, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaOto/pseuds/GretaOto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames is hurt. Arthur does what he can to help him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kate_the_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/gifts).



> Written for kate_the_reader (hope your arm heals quickly!) and ATAK. Cat fact courtesy of melinyel.
> 
> SPOILER ALERT: This fic is set in the same 'verse as Kitten, and is spoiler(ish) through chapter 12 of that story. You should probably go read Kitten first before you read this one. It will make a lot more sense, I promise.

It took a week for Eames to notice that something was off. 

Granted, it may have been due to the drugs (the good ones, Arthur had insisted, Eames wasn't about to complain), but there was still no excuse for it. After all, Eames had broken his arm, not his head. 

They had been leaving a job rather hastily, through a back window and down a rusty, old fire escape. Eames, in his hurry to escape the spray of gunfire from the window, missed the last few steps and fell several ungraceful feet, landing awkwardly and banging his wrist on the edge of some broken cinderblock. He had also somehow managed to bruise his tailbone in the process, although he didn't notice that in the initial wave of shock and adrenaline.

"Do keep up Eames", Arthur had snapped. "We need to get out of here before they catch us, and I don't have time for your carelessness."

But Eames had heard the worry lacing through his curt tone, and felt the gentleness of his fingers as Arthur quickly and competently tied Eames his arm to his chest with his own no doubt hideously expensive suit jacket and rapidly unlaced tie.

After a week of sitting around their London flat with a broken arm – his dominant hand, no less – Eames was starting to feel useless. He tried not to take his frustration out on Arthur, but the combination of pain, painkillers, and enforced idleness was nearly unbearable.

Perhaps that was why Arthur had been spending so much of his time at home as a cat. He would pop out for a few hours at a time, to go grocery shopping, or meet with a contact, or do some reconnaissance for a couple of upcoming jobs. But the rest of the time, he lay around on the couch with Eames, curled up next to him or on his lap, purring like a perpetual motion machine. Not that Eames minded, exactly. He found the quiet rumbling and the feel of soft fur between his fingers to be very soothing. But it was a little out of character for Arthur to be so… affectionate all the time.

It took another week for Eames' curiosity to finally get the better of him.

Eames was nestled in his lazy boy, muttering under his breath at some soap opera or another (he couldn't remember which and couldn't be arsed to keep them straight at the moment) when Arthur walked in the door. He watched in fascination as his lover and sometimes pet took one look at him and then turned toward the bedroom, stripping methodically as he walked. 

Arthur came out a minute later ( _just enough time to carefully hang up his suit_ , Eames noted) wearing nothing and carrying a pair of sweatpants. Eames thought for a sweet moment that Arthur was going to- but no. 

Arthur draped the sweatpants over the back of the couch and shifted mid-stride into Kitten, barely breaking his forward motion as he hopped up and settled in next to Eames. As soon as he was seated, curled firmly but carefully against Eames' casted arm, he started up his purring rumble. And then didn't stop, until Eames' stomach growled and the man stirred to go hunt through the fridge for something edible.

Before Eames could even begin to lever himself up from the chair Arthur swiftly uncurled and jumped down. He shifted mid-stretch back into his human form. Eames got a brief but fantastic look at his raised, naked arse before Arthur straightened back up, snagged the sweats from the couch, pulled them on, and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

Eames followed him as far as the doorway and leaned there against the frame, arms carefully crossed, watching Arthur be as efficiently competent in the kitchen as he was at everything else.

"Why are you doing that?" Eames asked.

"Doing what?" Arthur replied, contemplating the sad state of their vegetable crisper.

Eames cast about for the right words to articulate his question.

"Don't take this the wrong way, darling, but you have been more affectionate lately than normal. Not the drag-Eames-to-bed type of affection, which for once I have to admit might be a bit inconvenient." He wiggled his cast in illustration. "You seem to spend all of your spare time at home lately as a cat. Have I really been that unpleasant to be around?"

Even with his back to him, Eames could see Arthur blush. Arthur blushed exquisitely. It started in his cheeks then spread to his ears and the back of his neck. If he was really embarrassed (or turned on) the blush would spread down across his chest and his back. Usually Eames delighted in seeing how far he could get the blush to spread, especially when presented with as fine a view as he had now - Arthur shirtless, with what appeared to be Eames' sweatpants riding low on his hips - but Arthur's tense shoulders spoke eloquently of embarrassment.

"Well," Arthur started hesitantly, "it seemed to calm you down a little bit, but-" And then he stopped, cutting himself off and shaking his head.

"But," Eames prompted gently.

Arthur closed the fridge and turned hesitantly to face him, fingers fidgeting uncharacteristically.

"I read somewhere that cats purr at a frequency that promotes bone growth, and, you know, I thought it wouldn't hurt to try." He ducked his head, unable to meet Eames eyes. "I just hate seeing you injured like this, and I miss having you working with me. It's probably silly, but if there was a chance at helping you heal faster, I had to try."

Arthur looked up again, defiant and vulnerable.

Eames closed the gap between them and folded Arthur to his chest with his good arm. "Oh kitten," he murmured softly into Arthur's hair. "I love you too."


End file.
